TDL&TH Side Story II: Little Scapegoat’s Tragedy & Hope

In a village far away from Akashic Records Academy and years before Griffith had appeared, there was a boy.

This boy was, perhaps, loved by a deity, for he was fairly innocent for his age when compared to the other village children.

What made him stand out from the others was his remarkable gifts. If he lived on Earth, his intelligence would be one of legendary status – capable of earning every single doctorate at the tender age of 10.

Despite his great talents, he was far from being boastful, vain, or arrogant – nay, he was quite humble and a very amiable person to be around.

His brilliance only caused the seeds of hatred, envy, jealousy, and spite.

“Why… why is this happening to me?” the boy spoke as tears streamed down his face as he was beaten repeatedly and tortured with unending pain.

“What did I do to deserve this…?”

The youth could not comprehend as to why the villagers and children be so cruel to him – he did nothing to incite any such anger, all the vices that exist were never present in the boy, and did not commit any sort of crime.

His body was now covered in innumerable scars from all the wound he recieved, tears that did not stop falling, and his beautiful white hair became brown from all the blood in it.

For weeks upon weeks, the boy faced such pain. It can be said that he was either blessed or cursed with such a sturdy body that could withstand such abuse. What made it worse was that the boy’s “friends”, close friends, and family had also participated in the hellish torture.

What seemed to be a regular night for the boy – hanging from the cross he was nailed to, all alone in the center of the village while the cold winds stung his still-bleeding wounds – would change his life.

“I… don’t want to be alone… I want to go back to my old life… I don’t care if it was a lie… I want to feel that warmth again… it’s cold… mother… it’s so cold out here…”

He then heard approaching footsteps and he shook in fear.

It was a guard. The guard brought the boy down from the cross, bashed the boy’s face against the dirt twice, tied the boy’s legs and arms, then dragged the poor boy for several meters.

There, the guard left the boy outside the gate and left some raw meat to attract wolves, cayotes, whatever was a meat eater.

The predators arrived. They tore off chunks of the boy’s flesh bit by bit, as if they were savoring the boy’s pain and agony. Unfortunately, the boy had already quickly regenerated the missing flesh and organs, but not fully, thus leaving scars instead.

Day and night, the creatures would arrive again to feast on the boy.

This also continued for several weeks, with villagers watching in enjoyment.

One particular night had saved the boy from such pain.

On this night, the boy saw a feminine figure who had protected him from the predators and took him to a cottage far away from the village.

“Do you have a name?” she asks the boy, her voice was beautiful and full of warmth.

“I… have… name… forgot…” the boy responded, for he could no longer remember his name.